A Scandal in Politics
by ADLOCKandMYTHEA
Summary: Sherlock Holmes is sent to recover a camera phone from a pop star, Irene Adler, but could Sherlock Holmes just misjudge the woman? Non established Adlock. And established Mythea (MycroftXAnthea) I suck at summaries so I apologise for the poorness of it.
1. The Cheating Client

A/N Yet another AU Adlock (A scandal in belgravia story) I have to credit most of the ideas for this story to my dearest friend Nina Vale on this wonderful website called I hope that I do not let her down.

And as always there will be some Anthea/Mycroft. So if you don't like that ship…it's a clear warning.

As to how Sherlock escaped the pool…the first time Moriarty said he was leaving and left is when he left. Just to clear things up.

* * *

**A Scandal in Politics**

**Chapter One**

Sherlock Holmes walked into his brother's office in the Diogenes Club. Mycroft Holmes looked up and his eyes made a rolling motion at the sight of his little brother. All the younger Holmes was wearing was a sheet. Mycroft grimaced and stood up as one of his lackie's brought in Sherlock's clothes.

"He refused to put them on, sir." Was the statement of the man following Mycroft Holmes' orders. Mycroft nodded and took the clothes from him before sending him out and glancing at Sherlock and holding them out to him.

"You're about to meeting a client, Sherlock. Put your trousers on." Mycroft said to him, causing Sherlock to let out air.

"What for?" Sherlock asked.

The door opened and Anthea stepped in. Mycroft glanced at her and then Anthea glanced at Sherlock before shaking her head.

"Ah, Anthea. Some tea would be nice." Sherlock commented upon noticing her presence.

"Sherlock. Put your clothes on." Mycroft said again.

"Dr Watson is on his way, sir."

"I was in the middle of a case, Mycroft." Sherlock said to his brother, with exasperation.

"What the hiker and the backfire? I glanced at the police report. A bit obvious, surely."

"Transparent." Sherlock replied.

"Moving on then."

Mycroft let out a cough and Sherlock rolled his eyes. Mycroft looked over to Anthea who could see the elder Holmes' frustration in his eyes.

Anthea stepped forward and picked up Sherlock's clothes holding them out. "I'm giving you ten seconds to take these clothes from me and put them on, otherwise I will plan your mother a party and tell her that you did it for her. She will be so thrilled I am sure to tell her son just how much she loves you and that…"

Sherlock glanced at her, looking defeated. "Do I still get tea?" he asked.

"If you get dressed before the clock strikes half past. I'll be back in a five minutes, Sherlock Holmes."

Mycroft smirked as Anthea left and then he turned to Sherlock. "Well then. I don't think either of us want a visit from mummy."

"You need to get your PA under control."

"Oh believe me, I really don't." Mycroft replied, with a smile.

* * *

Anthea came in with tea and biscuits with John Watson following behind her. "Well you see that. When you cooperate, you even get friends to come and sit with you." Anthea told him with a smile.

"I thought this club of yours was gentleman only." Sherlock stated.

"But I'm special." Anthea answered before Mycroft could. She checked her phone. "That is Mr Norton now, sir."

"You go and make sure he finds us alright." Mycroft replied and Anthea stepped out.

"What happened?" John asked. "Why are we here?"

"You'll find out soon enough." Mycroft replied to the army doctor's question. John poured himself some tea and began to take a sip.

"This had better be good." Sherlock replied, disdainfully.

At that moment the door opened and in stepped a well suited man. Sherlock glanced at him and rolled his eyes. He hated politicians.

"You must be Mr Holmes." said the politician before sitting down in an armchair in Mycroft's office. "I appreciate that you came here to meet me."

John and Sherlock before exchanged a look and then Mycroft glanced at his brother warningly.

"Mr Norton here is a candidate a position in the government. We can't say too much. However for national security purposes there is some concerns with the second candidate, and a lack of competence with the third." Mycroft informed Sherlock, before walking over to a cabinet and removing a bottle of Scotch whiskey. "However, Mr Norton has a problem."

Anthea took it from him and poured him some as Sherlock let out a sigh.

"Who is your problem?" Sherlock asked, Norton.

"I'm…" Norton blinked and stuttered.

"It's obvious isn't it? Politicians and affairs. Usually go hand in hand."

"Irene Adler."

John blinked.

"Never heard of her." Sherlock replied, before standing up. "Sorry Mycroft. If there's one thing I hate, it's covering up for politicians."

"Irene Adler is a pop star, Sherlock. She's on tour and she's singing in London tonight. I was going to go see her but I couldn't get tickets. We could listen to what he has to say."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and sat down. "You've five minutes."

"Irene Adler…had some…qualities that one could not help but find attractive. Not only did she have a beautiful voice but there was something about her that pulled you in. In the end I had to break up with her, she asked me to choose between my wife and her."

"Shame." Sherlock said sarcastically.

Mycroft sat down and Anthea handed him his drink.

"But obviously you didn't choose her."

"There's a reporter who really dislikes me." Norton continued. "Something to do with my views on immigration a few years ago. I've risen in politics a lot since then. He met Irene a couple of days ago when she was being interviewed by several members of the press. She's famous. Of course she gets such attention from the media but this reporter does not get involved in tabloid pop stars. If he's looking from a story from her, then we're in trouble."

"Could be making it up." Sherlock replied.

"We've exchanged texts and emails."

"Fake."

"And I made the mistake of spending time with her and letting her take photographs. She keeps them on her camera phone. Her father bought her it and she's a very sentimental woman at times. You wouldn't think she was a pop star. She's not…"

Sherlock rolled his eyes as Norton continued. "She's not attention seeking or inappropriate like most of them. She just enjoys singing and writing music. She's an excellent pianist as well."

"She's great acoustic. I've seen videos on youtube." John commented.

Sherlock drew him a look.

"I'm just saying…" John began.

"This affair has however left me at an inconvenience." Norton commented.

"Perhaps you shouldn't have cheated on your wife." remarked Anthea. Everyone in the room turned to look at her. "What? I can't be the only one thinking it."

"What goes on in my private life is not the business of someone's personal assistant." Norton commented, dryly.

Mycroft was about to speak but Anthea beat him to it.

"And yet you're here telling us about it." Anthea replied. "When you're private life is endangering the security of our country, it is our business. It's remarkable that you're still our most favoured choice for this position we need you to be in. Or perhaps it's just lucky for you that one of them is a suspected terrorist without evidence and the other is completely and utterly incompetent. It's questionable as to your capability when you're foolish enough to engage in an affair with a chart topping star."

"Mr Holmes will you recover that camera phone?" Norton asked, turning to Sherlock. "I will you pay you a very reasonable sum."

"It should be simple." he replies. "Text me the details where Miss Adler is staying. Oh I'll need a lighter by the way."

Norton handed Sherlock one of his own.

When everyone but Anthea and Mycroft had left Mycroft turned to her. "I'm sorry." she apologised to him.

"You were correct, Anthea. We were all thinking it." Mycroft replied, before standing up and kissing her cheek. "It was amusing however to see you shoot him down like that. It makes, making you my PA instead of an agent, all the more worthwhile."

"I miss it sometimes." she replies. "But at least I get to spend time with you without people finding out that we're married."

Mycroft smiled a small smile. "Send Sherlock the details, will you?"

Anthea nodded and walked out of the room.


	2. Meeting Someone Nice

**A Scandal in Politics**

**Chapter Two**

Sherlock rang the door bell to Irene Adler's current place of residence, holding a handkerchief to a large cut on his face. It was a few moments before the door opened to reveal a woman with red hair. "Can I help you sir?"

"Hello. I've been attacked..." Sherlock began.

"I can see that. Do you want me to call the police for you?"

"Thank you. Thank you." he replied tearfully.

She let Sherlock in and led him in to the living room. "I will just go and let my boss know what has happened."

Sherlock took his coat off, to reveal he had buttoned his shirt up the entire way and was wearing a vicar's white collar.

* * *

Kate, Irene's PA, walked into the music room where Irene was lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling, surrounded in tons of written sheet music. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh.

"Do people ever realise how difficult it is to multi write several songs simultaneously at the one time? It's alright for them they get to listen to the music but I have to suffer such...all this for one word or was it two?...expressing how I feel usually helps but no I am not getting it." Unlike her English PA, Irene's accent was American.

Kate chuckled.

"I apologise for interrupting you while you create more music but there's a gentleman here. I couldn't not let him in. I think someone tried to mug him. Should I phone the police?"

The woman's eyes opened. "Don't do that." Irene replied before standing up and stretching. "Lying on the floor for three hours does give one such an ache. I do not recommend it, Kate."

"So don't call the police then?"

"Probably some reporter at it to try and get me to talk about..."

"Talk about what?" Kate asked when Irene stopped dead.

"Myself. Where is he? I will see to him."

"The living room." Kate replied.

Irene sighed and straightened herself before stepping out of the room and down the hall to the living room. "I am sorry to hear you've been hurt." she announced to Sherlock as she stepped into the room. Sherlock looked up, still holding the handkerchief to his face. She glanced at him and recognised him immediately from the papers. Sherlock Holmes. He had taken her front page once.

"Let me take that coat for you. Good Belstaff piece of fashion there. You do not want it getting creased do you?"

She hung it up and turned to Sherlock. "Thank you." Sherlock told her.

"It must hurt." Irene commented, pointing to her own cheek where on Sherlock would be a cut. Sherlock glanced at her, trying to come up with something about her but it was as though his process was being carried out by an operating system to which the software Irene Adler did not work on.

She walked to the door. "Kate, bring me a first aid kit." she called out. "And some tea please."

Irene closed the door over and Sherlock stared at her as she walked over to the coffee table to look him in the eye.

"Was the coat a gift from someone?" Irene asked Sherlock.

Sherlock looked at her in bewilderment. "What makes you think that it is a gift?"

"In my industry you get to know a bit about fashion. And that coat is from Belstaff and worth multiple thousands. I did not think a man of the church was so well paid."

"My brother bought it for me." Sherlock replied and it wasn't a lie. Mycroft had bought him it for his birthday one year.

"That was very nice of him." she replied before standing up and walking over to the door. It was good timing because Kate was stepping up to the door, a tray in two hands and a first aid kit under her arm. Irene took them from her.

"Thank you." Irene replied, with a smile. "You're my saviour Kate."

Kate smiled and Irene walked over to the coffee table where she placed the tray and the first aid kit. Kate closed the door over and left.

"Is there someone I can call? Friend? Colleague? Family?"

Sherlock stammered. "My...my...he's busy."

"The tea is just made. It will be very hot. Let me clean that cut. Heaven and god knows that churches are breeding grounds for germs."

"Yes," Sherlock replied, as Irene gently began to wipe his face cut with an antiseptic wipe. "What is your job?"

"I am a musician." she replied, before picking up a butterfly strip and placing it over the cut. "You know I can sympathise with your attacker. Punching you in you cheek and missing your nose and teeth. Look at those cheekbones."

She stood up and walked over to armchair. "Help yourself." She gestured to the tray and Sherlock picked up a biscuit.

He glanced at her again and frowned both his face and eyebrow. Nothing.

"Mental expenditure." she said suddenly. "I suffer such mental expenditure."

"Sorry?" Sherlock questioned.

"Not you, sir." she replied before running out the room. She came back later with sheets of paper. "New songs I am doing. Would you like to see?"

"No thank you."

"Probably best. They aren't musical hymns or something like that."

She sat down beside him, placing the music on the shelf underneath the coffee table. "So what is your name?"

"Ummm...ummm...John. "

"Delayed response...oh that's a good one."

She picked up sheet from the pile and scribbled down the words. "You write the instrumental to your own music?" Sherlock asked.

"Well it doesn't write itself does it?" Irene replied. "Anyway what was I saying? Oh yes delayed response when I asked your name. Possible concussion. Slightly concerned. Either that it's just shock. Drink your tea. It usually helps."

At that moment the fire alarm went off.

Irene immediately turned and glance at the mirror above the mantelpiece. Sherlock texted John when she wasn't looking and then put his phone back in his pocket. She made it all too easy.

"I don't smell smoke perhaps your alarm is faulty." Sherlock said, softly.

The noise stopped suddenly and Irene turned to the door as Kate stepped in. "I don't know what set it off."

Irene put her hand on her forehead. "Call this lovely man a cab under my name would you?"

"I will do." Kate replied and Irene swallowed when she left.

"Are you alright?" Sherlock asked her.

"Sudden headache. Most likely stress I have a large audience to perform in front of tonight. Is there anything else that I can do for you?

"Believe me, you've done enough." Sherlock stood up and shook hands with her. "Thank you...you didn't mention _your_ name."

"Irene Adler. Very nice to meet you."

He let go of her hand, but only after he realised he'd held onto it for longer than necessary. He turned around and walked to the door, where Kate stood once again to lead him to the front door. Irene ran to her bedroom and did her hair up in a bun before changing into a pair of jeans, and a shirt, followed by putting on converse and a denim jacket. Before going over to her window in the bathroom to climb out, she grabbed a baseball cap and shades.

* * *

"I have narrowed down to where she's hiding those photographs. I don't imagine that she'd take the phone all the way to perform whatever it is that she does. She needs it safe. Publicly it wouldn't be."

"So we're heading around to her place when she's gone tonight at her concert?" John replied as Sherlock and him stepped out of the taxi and to the door at Baker Street.

"Pretty much so." Sherlock replied.

"Mr Holmes." a voice asked and Sherlock turned around and blinked. "I recognise you from the papers. Could I have your autograph?"

She held out a newspaper page, with him on the front cover and a pen. John drew Sherlock a look. "It's so nice to meet the clever detective in the funny hat."

"Yes. He'll gladly give you one." John said before pushing Sherlock forward. The woman wanting the autograph smiled and Sherlock sighed. "Come on you promised me an autograph and you didn't get one."

"Didn't work with my cover, I'm sorry."

"Sorry about that." John apologised as Sherlock signed the page.

"Do not use my signature for identity fraud. I'll track you down." Sherlock replied, seriously. "Now go off and shoo."

"Rude." she commented before walking off.

"People are asking for your autograph now. Do you think we could print off pictures of you and autograph them to sell on ebay?" John asked. "Anyway what was Irene Adler like in person. Beyond the eyes of the paparazzi."

"She was…" Sherlock paused. "Puzzling."

"Puzzling?" John inquired as they hung their coats up on the pegs.

Sherlock glanced at John and made the following deceptions : Two day shirt; shaved with an electric razor and not a blade; date tonight; hasn't phoned sister; new toothbrush; night out with Stamford. He let out a sigh of relief but then blinked. Why could he not read Irene Adler?

"Hmmn." Sherlock uttered before wandering upstairs. "I'll phone Anthea, tell her to tell Mycroft of my plan. I tried calling Mycroft but no answer. Probably in some meeting."

"Is she nice?" John asked Sherlock. "She isn't just putting on a show for the press is she?"

Sherlock stopped and turned around. "I don't normally say this but yes; she was _very_ nice."

Sherlock wandered upstairs and John blinked before following him up. "Did she put that clear sterile strip on your face?"

"Yes. Poor idiot thought that I was going to church where there was germs."

Sherlock took off the collar he'd used to make his identity and unbutton the top collar button on his shirt. "That's better. Me again."

"Well alright then. We get to break into Irene Adler's house tonight. Never thought that I'd say that. How long do you think it'll take?"

"Don't worry you'll still make your date tonight." Sherlock replied as sat down at the table and opened up his laptop.

John nodded and wandered up to his room, while Sherlock looked Irene Adler up on youtube.


	3. Nice Try

**A Scandal in Politics **

**Chapter Three**

Sherlock climbed into Adler's house through one of the open windows. Once he was inside he let John in and the two them made their way into the living room. "I'm in a pop star's house. Seriously…"

"Quiet." Sherlock said as he lifted the mirror off of the wall to reveal a safe. He smiled and turned to John who let out some air. "Hold the torch for me."

John took the torch out of the bag he'd brought. He switched it on and aimed the light at the safe. "Heaviest oil deposit is always on the first key. Apart from that there is no well to tell. We're going to have to break in."

"Break into the safe? Won't that…Won't she know we were here then?"

"When she finds the camera phone gone, she's going to know someone broke in. Mycroft told me to do what I had to do. This is it."

* * *

"Well that went well." John commented when Sherlock removed the door off of the safe. Inside was a letter. Sherlock picked it up and frowned when he saw who it was addressed to.

Him.

**Sherlock Holmes**

"That's your name." John pointed out. Sherlock sat down on the living room sofa as he opened it up. Immediately his eyes were glancing onto Irene Adler's elegant hand writing.

**Dear Mr Holmes:**

**I was fully aware of your identity as soon as I laid eyes on you. However, I realised that you were probably consulted by either Norton or that darn reporter who won't stop following me around. I have better things to do in my life than to sell photographs and a story to the press, Mr Holmes. Take a look at my career choice. You will see I have no need for it. However I will tell you the story, between you and I. I was performing in a bar in New York. My father's favourite place to drink with friends. I met Mr Norton there when he was on holiday. I was going to London, as was he. We had a drink and then we met up there. As an American I do not follow English politicians. I don't even follow American politicians. I did not know that he was married. As soon as I found out I told him to make a choice. I respect his. I only feel guilty because of his wife and children. Perhaps an apology from him to me would have been nice but then again perhaps I'm asking for too much. Now I have reporters chasing me down. Him sending people after me! And now you turn up. **

**Not only am I hurt by what Norton did to me but I'm insulted by you. I imagine as a consulting detective who the police are all over to bring in on cases, you must have some sort of superiority complex and see others as inferior but not everyone is stupid, even if they aren't as clever as you are. You may have thought you were playing me the entire time you were in my living room but no, you were wrong. I was playing you. As you were only doing your job however, I couldn't leave you injured, however minor it was. I can be kind but do not think for one moment that excuses you. As soon as you left, I took the liberty of asking for you autograph. Yes that was me. As I thought you were planning on breaking into my house. I assure you that this house is no longer occupied by me or my trusty PA Kate. Thank you Mr Holmes however for giving me a chance to clear things up with Norton since he didn't bother to come to me himself and ask me not to say anything. I doubt he'd have said what I wanted to hear him say: sorry. **

**As for you Mr Holmes, I've left a present on the other side of the letter for you. Thank you. For you accidental favour that is. **

**Yours Sincerely, **

**Irene Adler **

Sherlock look at the other side of the letter to find a photograph of Irene clipped to it. It was autographed, with a small note as well as the signature: **Nice Try Mr Holmes. **

Sherlock let out a deep breath and looked up to John who was staring on concern. "Sherlock what is it?"

"I may have..." He stopped himself from talking and stood up, pocketing the photo and letter, as well as the envelope into his pocket. There was silence until John broke it.

"May have…what, Sherlock?" John asked.

Sherlock looked in shock. Proper shock and John began to get worried. The detective actually look as though he was having some sort of mental break down, all the confinements of his mind.

"Sherlock." John uttered. "What happened? What's the matter?"

Sherlock walked forward to the door and turned around. "_The _Woman happened." Sherlock managed to tell his friend before walking out.

"So we're leaving?" John asked him as Sherlock began to head to the front door. "Sherlock!"

* * *

Irene got off from the stage after her final song of the night and she made her way to her dressing room. She opened the door and stepped inside to find Sherlock sitting in her chair, his feet up on the dressing table. He folded his arms and looked at her, still unable to deduce anything about her.

"Mr Holmes…why are you here?"

He got up and walked over to her. They were only inches apart. "I came to apologise. I am so very sorry Miss Adler. Forgive me."

He lifted her hand up and he placed a soft and gentle kiss there before making his way to the door. "Mr Holmes." Irene uttered. Sherlock turned around, putting his hands in his pocket. "Thank you. Thank you very much."

He nodded to her and left.

* * *

The next day, Sherlock sighed as he placed Irene Adler's letter in the desk drawer in the living room at Baker Street. He walked over to where his violin was. He felt like composing a musical piece.

At that moment John stepped into the living room and found Sherlock. "So what are we doing?" John asked.

"Nothing."

"What about Irene Adler? We didn't get the phone."

"_The_ Woman has probably left the country right now and she is no longer a concern to Mycroft."

"_The _Woman?" John questioned.

Sherlock continued to play and John turned around left to go to his room.

**End of Story**

**A/N It may be the end but I will being doing a sequel. I need to establish some Adlock. Because well it's my diehard ship. Thank you to everyone who reviewed this, thank you Nina Vale for the idea. Thanks to those who read, subscribe etc. Thank you!**


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